Dark Ramblings, A Dark Lord's Diary
by Shikatanai
Summary: After loosing his first diary to an overzealous, stupid brat, Lord Voldemort decides to try his luck one more time. Of course, this time he's even less sane than during the first go around. postHBP. Dearest Diary...
1. Chicken

Dear Diary,

You know, I kept a diary once. It was a long time ago, but I was thinking about it, and I decided it might be interesting to do so again. For nostalgia's sake.

Because, of course, last time some little brat stabbed my diary with a tooth pilfered from the bleeding corpse of my favorite pet...

He will suffer for that. In fact, he has suffered for it. I killed his godfather, and his precious Headmaster, and that's only the beginning! I will bathe his world in blood for what he's done to me!

You know, a world bathed in blood would be pretty cool, if you think about it. A little too red for my tastes, though. Isn't it funny? A world bathed in blood would be a world covered in Gryffindor's colors - and a world covered in life and green things would be Slytherin's.

And they say that Slytherins are the evil ones. Ha.

I had a Death Eater meeting today. It went well. Bella and Lilith almost got into a catfight! I think I will definitely start throwing them together more often. Build pain tolerance, and all that. Cat fights are entertaining. I haven't seen a good one since I stole that necklace from what's-her-face back in Hogwarts and got her to blame her best friend. Now that was a stroke of Slytherin genius.

I heard Shay and Lucius talking after the meeting about my habit of torturing people. Lucius, of course, wasn't happy with that bloody nose I gave him. Apparently the blood won't be coming out of the silk handkerchief any time soon. Well whose fault is that? Why bring expensive handkerchiefs when you know that you'll be using them to wipe up blood? That seems a bit stupid to me. Ah, but he's a Malfoy, and vanity runs in their blood.

Shay likes my torturing methods, the sadistic bastard. Heh, me, calling someone else sadistic! Ha! That's a laugh! Anyways, he's got a lot of the same theories as me, and was explaining them to Lucius, who apparently isn't as well versed on the subject of pain as my bloody-minded frenchman.

I love having a professional military torturer on my side... It makes things so interesting! I love watching the man work. He get's so into everything, it's really beautiful. The screams he can get! I have to say that he's better than I am. (See, this is why I need a diary. I can't admit to anyone being better than me at anything out loud - but I'm not so stupid that I can't recognize other people's strengths to myself. Privately. Where no one else can see.)

I wonder if I should write out a document on pain theory and pain tolerance. If I wrote it under a psuedonym, I wonder how many people would read it. Maybe I could even pass it off as a medical document! Wouldn't that be a laugh? Getting Saint Mungos to use the Dark Lord's theories?

Nagini says I'm crazy. She wanted to know why I was making the funny noises, so I told her what I'm writing to you, dear diary. She said I'm absolutley flipping nuts. I didn't know that snakes had a concept of crazy.

I gues you learn knew things every day, even at 70.

I don't want to be 70. That's so old! I'm still at the prime of my life! I'm vital, and energetic, and I'm young. I wonder, since I have all those lawyers pledged to me... Maybe I should put some on the task of editing all the records of my birth to say I'm only 40 or something.

Actually, maybe that's not necessary. I was technically born just a few years ago, when I did that ritual. People always talk about dancing on hated people's graves. It's definitely just as good as they say it is. Dancing on my father's grave was seriously the highlight of the evening. Almost made up for that stupid brother wand crap that foiled me. Again. Damnit.

Why won't that stupid brat die already? I'm going to kill him. One of these days, I'm going to crucify him upside down and poke burning needles into his belly and scoop out his eyeballs with a rusty spoon and cut out his tongue with one of Shay's pretty daggers and pull all his nails off with a tweezer and scalp him. I've always wanted to scalp someone. I used to love Westerns as a kid. Maybe I should practice so I'll be able to do it right. At my next meeting, I'll make sure to find someone to scalp.

I wonder what I should do with the scalp? I mean, I know the Indians used them as trophies, but I have plenty of trophies. If I wanted gruesome trophies, I would take the whole head. Wouldn't that be an interesting parlor? Instead of stuffed animal heads, I could have Death Eater heads! Mounted on plaques like those horrid House Elves at the old Black house. I wonder whatever happened to the old Black house. Oh well. Probably doesn't matter. It was a horrible place, anyways. I like Malfoy manor better.

I want a castle.A good old fashioned castle hideout, with battlements and a moat and a drawbridge. That would be so cool! And I could pour boiling oil on those stupid bird-brained Order members, and have fried phoenix for dinner. I wonder what fried phoenix would taste like. Chicken, maybe? Everything tastes like chicken. Or maybe chicken tastes like everything? Maybe I should write a disertation about that instead of pain. It would probably be just as interesting.

Paperwork is horrid. I hate it. When I rule the world, I'm going to outlaw paperwork. That'll probably win a lot of converts to my side. No more paperwork... Ah, we could burn it all! All of that paperwork, up in flames. It would be a beautiful sight. Thousands of roaring bonfires!

I like fire. It's so beautiful, and elegant. Powerful. Dangerous. Unpredictable. A million possibilities contained in one dancing substance. I think fire ought to consume the world. It would be even better than bathing the world in blood. I admire fire. If I could be anything but the Dark Lord, I think I would want to be fire.

And when we run out of paperwork to feed the fires, we can throw those bloody Order members in! And the ministry, and the aurors. And the Muggles. And the mudbloods. I love the smell of roasting flesh.

Well, dear diary, I should probably get to bed. Yes, yes, even Dark Lords need their sleep. I have a busy day tomorrow, I'll have you know! People to kill, worlds to conquer...

I will speak with you later, darling diary.  
Tommy

* * *

Yes, Voldemort is crazy. That's why I love him. He's writing this after HBP, and depending on whether or not people like it, may go up to the final battle. I may also write back-entries, include letters, or possibly even include actual snippets of dialouge and setting. Let me know what you guys are interested in seeing!

Future chapters will likely be longer.


	2. Torture

Dearest Diary,

I'm afraid I've been a very bad boy. Remember how I told you that Lilith and Bella don't get along? Well, I think I might've just made things worse. Bella was bitching about "that little slag" to Lucius, and I overheard. I took her aside and gave her a little lecture. Of sorts.

Did you know that she sounds a bit like a howler monkey when she cries?

Of course, maybe I shouldn't have said all those nasty things to her. She is a lady, after all. But she's _mine_, and if I decide she's obsolete, then she'd bloody well bow down to the inevitable! So I've found a younger, prettier, _saner_ woman to serve me! So what? _I_ don't belong to _Lestrange_.

I'm sure you're dying to hear what I told her, aren't you darling diary. Not that you could die of curiosity, of course... (That would be an interesting way to die. A Gryffindor way to die, though. One of these days that stupid Potter brat will die of curiosity, and I'll laugh, because I'll have seen it coming.)

Well, the conversation went something like this:

"My Lord!" (That's Bella. She was on her knees, of course. She always seems to be on her knees before me. Hmm. I'll have to ponder this phenomena a bit more later.)

"What were you saying to Lucius, Lestrange." (That's me. It wasn't a question, of course. I knew what she'd been saying, and I was ordering her to repeat it to my face. And she knew it too. Of course, she was a bit distraught about the insult of calling her Lestrange - especially when she was complaining about my new girl. Ha. I love pushing her buttons.)

"I... I was just..." (Stuttering is almost as bad as groveling - another reason I despise Wormtail. It doesn't suit women of good breeding - even the insane ones.)

"..." (I just gave her A Look. I don't think she liked it very much.)

"Ma-Master, I..." (She finally gets some guts here and pulls herself together. Arrogant little chit.) "As I was telling Lucius, your new girl, she's not one of us. You see it, right my Lord? You see she's not one of us?" (I still can't believe she presumed to lie to me, on top of claiming equality. What was this "us" business?)

"I trust Lilith more than I trust you, Lestrange." (This is where she started crying. Silly bitch. I mean, I don't trust anyone! Especially not Death Eaters.)

"M-m-my looooooorrrd" (Crying woman! Agh! I _hate_ crying women! So I fixed it by torturing her. That made her stop crying really fast.)

I told Shay that I was considering writing a thesis on pain. He expressed interest, of course. He told me that he would send some of his notes over, if I was interested. I said yes, of course. The man is a genius. He also offered to let me watch him in his official capacity. It comes dangerously close to an offer to _instruct_ me, but I let it slide. The man is fantastic in his wording, and the offer is genuine. And I do so love watching him work.

I sent Bella out for some Muggles. I told her I wanted them whole and completely unharmed. Of course they were a little roughed up – it's Bella, what can you do - so I told Shay he could warm up on her. The bastard was thrilled. I think he's been wanting to get his hands on her for a long time.

With Bella, we did magical torture. It was subtle, but ingenious. Intoxicating, really. Shay suggested some ideas he'd had regarding manipulation of the Dark Mark, so I Crucioed him for impertinence. I don't think he minded. By that time he was as high off the pain as I was.

Have you ever been on a pain high, beloved? It's a wonderful feeling. The blood roaring through your veins, singing to you... Seductive, welcoming. Lovely. Really lovely.

Speaking of lovely, Shay brought an assistant with him. That gorgeous niece of his. Refuses to take my Mark, but I can see in her eyes that she'd follow me. Healer or no Healer, she's a right bloodthirsty little slag. She's more vicious than Shay! The things she could do with a dagger... Well, I doubt I could recreate them in a million years.

When it comes time to torture the boy-who-just-won't-bloody-die, I think I'll call on her. It's a pity she's married. She would've made a wonderful Dark Lady.

Back to the subject of my pain dissertation. I've started to write it. It's fascinating so far - the research, especially. I'll share it with you when I'm done, love. Pinky swear.

Now I really ought to go. I've gone and called a meeting. Target practice! I need to brush up on my non-Unforgiveables. And Nagini needs to be fed.

I love you, darling diary,  
Tommy


	3. Alliteration

Dearest Darling Diary,

I love aritellamation. That's what it's called, right? Something like that. It's been a long time since primary school. The one thing that I've decided Muggles have right is their primary schools. I'm sick and tired of minions who can't use proper grammar! Let alone really cool literary devices like aritellamation. Well, at least that's one more thing I can do that they can't.

I have come to the conclusion that my minions are all inbred twits. Crabbe and Goyle actually managed a full sentence between them, today! I was ever so impressed. In fact, I was so impressed that I used a cutting curse across Goyle's voice box.

Some people just shouldn't speak.

My dissertation on pain has been momentarily set aside, unfortunately. More pressing matters have come up. The Potter boy has left on a quest. What does he think he is, a knight in shining armor? Ugh. Gryffindors disgust me.

Well, if he's so anxious to play knight, maybe I ought to play along – distress a damsel. Or two. See if he comes running. I'm sure he will – he always has in the past, and it isn't like he's smart enough to see that doing the same thing over and over again will not make you succeed.

Oh. Ouch. I feel the irony, alright! Let it go.

Still, maybe if I kidnap that horrid mudblood of his… Or his red haired whore. Of course, I seem to recall the _last_ time I killed a Potter's red haired whore, _I_ ended up getting… temporarily misplaced. Well, still, I should probably kill her know before there's a baby to complicate things.

Merlin… That's a chilling thought. The Potter brat is getting old enough to multiply. A cockroach! The idiot is a bloody cockroach! Ugh. Maybe instead of playing villain to his knight, I ought to be researching how to wipe out cockroach infestations.

I wonder if Hogwarts is flammable?

I feel like chicken tonight. Or maybe liver. Liver and onions, with brussel sprouts and lima beans. That seems like a proper meal for a bad guy, doesn't it?

When did I start thinking of myself as the bad guy? Or am I just being ironic? Probably a bit of both – I fully admit to being _Dark_, it's in my frigging title – and the naïve have drawn the conclusion that dark means evil means bad guy.

Lovely.

But I'm still rooting for me!

Actually, come to think of it, I always rooted for the bad guy growing up. Huh. That's funny. Or, at least ironic.

Irony is another things wizards miss out on, because they don't bother to learn how to use and describe our language.

Maybe that should be one of my early reforms, after I take over the world. Everyone has to go to school so they can learn aritellamation and irony. Remind me of that, won't you darling diary? I have the feeling it might turn out to be important some day.

Bella is being an idiot again. Insane Bella Lestrange. She really had no business leaving Azkaban, what with her current mental presence. Oh well. If you can't have smart henchmen, then settle for crazy fanatics – they'll get the job done _and_ they won't demand pensions.

Do you know, the Lady Healer had the gall to ask me about the health insurance for my Death Eaters?

I wonder if I were to kill her husband and make it look like an accident, she would marry me instead. Such a wonderfully frightening woman – she knows all about irony and stuff! I couldn't even bring myself to torture her for impertinence. (Actually, I started laughing and nearly scared a new recruit to death.)

Nagini is jealous. I sent her out to go frighten the minions. Make sure those recruits know what they've gotten themselves into. Never let it be said Lord Voldemort isn't honest!

Which is a better policy, do you think: honesty or reassurance?

The saying goes 'Honesty is the best policy,' and the order of fried chickens _say_ that's their policy – but really they're all about reassurance. They just want people to be (shudder) _happy_ and _cheerful_ and _get along with each other_.

I think they're a bunch of hypocrites.

Me, though. I'm honest. Sneaky, yeah. Cunning, yeah, Dark as Hell, yeah. But at least I'm honest about it! I even sign my name to everything that I'm responsible for! That floating Dark Mark? Seriously, that's me being honest!

I don't lie. I'm too powerful to need to hide behind lies. _Dumbledore_ had to hide behind lies. And who is the dead one now, hm?

I win!

And I'm bloody hungry. I'm off to scrounge up that liver and onion dish I was talking about.

Farewell darling!

Love, Tommy

* * *

**A/N: **When Voldy says "aritellamation," what he's really trying to say is "alliteration," which is the repetition of the first letter of a word. "Dearest Darling Diary" is alliteration.

And he thinks he's so smart. :)

I'm debating whether I want to write the end of the story MY way, or if I ought to wait for the seventh book so that I can be cannon… Hmmm… What do you all think?


	4. Sod's Law

Dear Diary,

I am unhappy. In fact, I am _very_ unhappy. I am so unhappy that I'm actually pouting. Really, I am! It may be undignified, but when you're as unhappy as I am, dignity drops a bit in importance. (But don't worry, all my pouting is occurring in my chambers – dignity may be down at the moment, but I still have an image to maintain.)

Now, as you are my friend, this is where I know you're asking me _why_ I'm unhappy. And because you're my only friend, the only person (so to speak) that I can trust with everything, I'm going to tell you.

You know how my Horcrux plan was completely foolproof? How there was absolutely no way that anyone would be able to get their hands on a single piece of my soul? Well, taking into consideration the fact that my previous diary has quite definitely been destroyed, it occurred to me that maybe my plan wasn't so foolproof. As Lilith cited the other day, 'nothing is foolproof to a sufficiently talented fool.' I hate Sod's Law.

So I decided to check on my Horcruxes, and you know what? That little brat found not one, but TWO of them! _Three_ pieces of my soul have been destroyed, and who knows how long it'll be before he finds more.

If I had hair, I'd be tearing it out right now.

No matter how devious, intelligent, and downright kick ass I am, there's always that damn Gryffindor Factor to take into account. After all, in the battle of Good vs Evil, it seems that Good triumphs – which I can't understand. After all, _Evil_ has all the good plans. _Evil_ has the masterminds. _Evil _has the manpower, the knowledge, the resources – everything! Good is always bumbling little cockroaches that refuse to take the hint and _die_.

So why doesn't _Evil_ ever win? I don't think it's at all fair.

Of course, "life isn't fair" is the motto that the orphanage 'caretakers' loved to tout. Every time anything happened at all, that was the excuse. They didn't give a shit about us. It was easier to pass it off as life lessons than it was to actually do something about it. I guess that approach made me into the man I am today. And isn't that ominous?

I'm still unhappy, in case you were curious. Maybe even irritated. Certainly less than pleased.

I think the intelligent thing to do might be to start researching worst case scenarios. I mean, sure killing the brat might work, but with Gryffindors you never know. I think we discussed his similarities to a cockroach before. I'd really hate to have killing him go wrong. Of course, _loosing_ isn't exactly appealing, either.

But that's enough with the morbid stuff. On to the more interesting information! I've set in motion a plan to secure me a few damsels to distress. I got my hands on one Cho Chang earlier this evening – Malfoy Jr assures me that my having this one will really get to Potter – and I secured little Miss Bones yesterday. I've got plans laid out to capture Miss Gabrielle Delacour tomorrow.

Of course, having them isn't quite enough. Now I need to find something to do with them. I could kill them, of course, but there's not a lot of fun in that. Especially with the Bones girl – she's important, and she's pureblood. I'll probably just torture her a bit and return her nicely. She isn't directly connected to Potter anyways.

Lucky her.

Delacour, on the other hand, is practically family from what I understand. Lilith was going into the connection during her debriefing – something about one of Potter's Weasleys marrying a Delacour. She'll be a bargaining chip, I'm sure.

Anyways, I should go. I'm late for a meeting. Punctuality is next to godliness, as the saying goes. Or is that how the saying goes? I may be mixing sayings – but they're Muggle sayings anyways! Why am I quoting Muggle sayings? Habit sucks.

Sorry I'm rushed!

With love,

I AM LORD VOLDEMORT (I never get tired of that!)


End file.
